Rich, You're a Good Guy
I called my mom last night to discuss the latest developments. Given Dad's rapid decline the past couple months and the strain it's been on Mom for the past several years, we've decided it's in our best interest to place him in a home. We went over the details and conversed. Then I spoke to my dad. He was a bit more jovial than he has been recently, which I found comforting and warm. He opened the conversation with:
"Rich. You're a good guy. You know how to hold your hands and all that kind of stuff."
Unfortunately, I was unable to record the conversation like I have with many others. There were a lot of things he said I wish I had. In a way it's fitting because I've forgotten the specifics of what we discussed, but I remember the feeling. I feel the feeling. And I remember the opening line, where he expressed the feeling he remembers:
"Buddy, thanks for watching over me and being there for me. I really appreciate it and I love you so much for everything you've done for me. You are a great son and you are a good guy. I'm proud of you.'
I can't prove it. But I know it.